Call Me Home
by InfinityxDanvers
Summary: Sharing a sincere moment is like dancing: it comes about two people that give in, donating each other's essence by the feeling that the one standing beside was molded especially for you. If home is where the heart is, they're exactly at the right place. And they're not going anywhere.


**First of all, I'd like to thank all the reviews and support from "In Between". My heart is overwhelmed and I don't think I'll ever be able to properly express my gratitude. As for the prompts: I'm already working on them while adjusting the posting date as well. :D****  
****I bring you here another one-shot that bumped out. This time, I tried to work with songs; I believe it has a way of elaborating things in a state we could never accomplish so fluently.****  
****Hope you like it!**

_**Song 1: Worrisome Heart by Melody Gardot **__**  
**__**Song 2: Like A Star by Corinne Bailey Rae **_**  
**_**(I'd say is important getting familiar with the melody since it'll make the character's status more understandable :D)**_**  
****Enjoy!**

**I do not own The Following, its characters or any of the songs.**

* * *

Mike Weston can't believe he is finally free. Scaled in the most intensely chaotic section he ever witnessed, piles of work investigations and much more caffeine later, he can conclusively return home. The weak drizzle, already making its course through the hollow street, enunciates the extinct time. Mike wanders to his car adjusting to the dying lights over the avenue. He breathes deeply; how he hates those days when everything seems to fade out by the drained hours. Maybe is just him. Maybe is the need of something else; something more. And maybe it's the idea of what awaits him; who awaits him.

He checks his clock. She should probably be at home by now. Max was expecting him and, damn, Mike was not wasting any minute longer.

It's a calm ride until their address, their place.

He detects the so familiar entry. Going for the keys and right before reaching the lock, Mike is welcomed by a sound. A pleasant sound. He tries to identify more. Stereo and a sultry voice. He opens the door carefully, trying not to disturb it. Along with his coat, he releases of everything from outside. It's a jazz ballad, Mike recognizes. The singer fills the place with a smooth atmosphere, balancing such structure with the present charm. However, none of that components surprise more, in the most overwhelming way, than the vision in front. On the line between the living room and the kitchen, Mike spots his wife dancing to the playing music.

He watches the passionate moving while he begins to hear a murmuring coming from her, catching with the desirous lyrics. Her legs flex every now and then with the change of notes, diagonally maneuvering; lightly with every movement, just as gracious as herself. He smiles. She doesn't notice him there, still driving her hips and adjusting with the song slow beat. Elements culminating to an unflappable place.

_I need a hand with my worrisome heart_  
_I would be lucky to find me a man_  
_Who could love me the way that I am_  
_With this here worrisome heart_  
_I need a break from my troubling ways_

The world shifts.

Mike registers nothing but the beauty ahead as he keeps staring at Max, with her back turned to him. The man intends to let his presence known, he does, but not an inch of him responds. It's hypnotic, dragging his mind in complete amazement, sucking like a narcotic into his now boiling bloodstream. Mike establishes next to the cold wall, crossing his arms. How could he possibly imagine living without her existence, her presence?

Max's dark brown hair moves gently submitting to her shoulder's movement. Her forearms ride off from her sides, freely, provoking an imaginary trace of fingers, drawing in the air. He can't see her face, but somehow knows she just closed her eyes. Max was commanding the song's rhythm now, and every word was obeying to her fluency.

_With all my troubling ways_  
_I need a man who got no baggage to claim_  
_I need a man who got no baggage to claim_

She starts to snap her fingers, mimicking the songstress. Mike only smirks wider and with every fiber of his being, tries to keep that moment forever. His Max and the magnificence she provides.

_I would be lucky to find me a man_  
_Who could love me the way that I am_  
_A worrisome troubling baggage free modern day dame_  
_Ain't no body the same_

The sleek vocal ends and Max turns, enjoying only the instrumental melody. Yes, her eyes were still closed. Body, left and then right, with tiny semicircular motions. Her eyelids announce the so lovely blue color. The woman spots Mike, who couldn't even make an effort to move. She is stopped and he immediately regrets for being the reason of it. Just when Mike is about to apologize Max stretches her hand smiling bigger than she would do with anyone.

He isn't anyone. He's everything.

Without thinking twice, Mike takes her hold, twining their fingers; softly, gently putting her against his body while placing the left hand on her waist. Their heights align and Max completes the composition by resting her palm on his shoulder.

"Hello there." She says low through the symmetrical ambient, keeping her face to his.

"You're a great dancer." He states, rotating 90 degrees and making use of his right knee as center guide.

Max laughs. How he adores when she does that.

"And you're such a smooth talker, Mike Weston." She responds grinning, yet receiving the real value of his words. Max's left foot accompanies her husband's pattern towards the new song playing.

"Sorry for sneaking in…" He truly confesses.

"I don't mind. I... I like to feel the way you look at me." She bites her lower lip acknowledging her own foolishness. "It's silly, but one of my favorite things."

Mike takes note of that.

"I've missed you."

"And I've missed you."

He doesn't recognize the new melody, even so, he keeps them both advancing slowly, breathing each other's presence.

_You've got this look I can't describe_  
_You make me feel like I'm alive_  
_When everything else is a fade_  
_Without a doubt you're on my side_  
_Heaven has been away too long_

It is calmer tone now, sweet and husky. The beat is also unhurried with an endless timbre, vibrating by its delicacy; the guitar strumming welcomes an amicable state.

Minutes become hours and seconds becomes infinity. Mike and Max now part of a whole extensive thing going beyond physical boundary; the lazy flow drowning both in. Mike takes his time to consume all the details he so greatly cherishes about Max. He smells her hair, savors her sweet scent, and rubs his nose to her silky skin. She is more dominant, absorbing his aspects impudently in an eager way, but not feeling sorry for it. He knows it and loves it.

His fingers, his eyes, his chest… It all submitting along her will. Everything under her command.

Like an unspoken agreement, they push tighter, bonding each other's flesh with a continuous need to be. Max brings her arms up, settling a place at the back of his neck while Mike, designing a grip, embraces her waist.

She strokes the edge of his blonde hair; an incessant yearning since she touched him.

He starts dropping small kisses on her neck, tracing and relishing every path of skin with fondness, having no rush.

_I wonder why it is_  
_I won't let my guard down _  
_For anyone but you_  
_We do it all the time_  
_Blowing out my mind_  
_Just like a star across my sky_

Max closes her eyes as an instinct, evoking that very moment; intimately, gradually. As the song reaches its final seconds, they stare at one another seeing a lot more than merely brightly colored irises.

Comfort, certainty, triumph... Love.  
It's there. They feel love. Feel and live love.

Both press their foreheads together, sharing each other's warm and inviting breathe. It's unbidden, it's sublime.

Their minds click.

"_Mine" "Yours"_

"_Forever mine" "Forever yours"_

"_Yes" _

They emerge into an uncontrollable longing, dizzy hands and anxious lips, tasting all the unsaid words. They don't need them, anyway. They never did. The assurance wasn't a product of circumstances, but a matter of knowing it. And they knew. They knew.

_You have appeared to my life_  
_Feel like I'll never be the same_  
_Just like a song in my heart_  
_Just like oil on my hands_

"I love you." Their bodies say.

"I love you." Their hearts reply.


End file.
